The Boathouse
by LunaEquus
Summary: A story about young love, summer love, and Karma love. Need a better title and a better summery. Oneshot.


**After reading a few of the new fics lately, I REALLY needed to write some romance to make myself happier. (Those fics are well-written, but incredibly SAD! Yes, I'm talking about yours, InfiniteReverie!) So raise your hand if you love good old Karma romance!**

_Kartik_

We first happened upon the abandoned boathouse one day in late spring, while Gemma and her family were staying at Pleasant House in Shropshire. Though I was no longer employed by the Doyle family, Gemma and I both agreed that it'd be best for me to be near her, especially as her two other friends were scattered elsewhere in England. Should there be a problem, Gemma would at least have me.

But there were no problems in the realms. We both knew there wouldn't be. The magic was bound and Circe had crossed over, an unexpected act of compassion from the High Priestess. Gemma was like two entities, the fierce goddess and the stubborn debutante.

Unlike the London season, life in the countryside was much more relaxed for Gemma. There was the occasional call and tea social, but for the most part, she was free to spend her days as she wished. And Gemma recently discovered her love of wildlife and nature walks, or at least that is what she told her family.

And naturally, I accompanied her. One can appreciate nature much more when they know what they're looking at.

"That's a squirrel," I told Gemma once, pointing at the small rodent, frozen in terror at the base of the tree near us.

She gave me a disdainful look. "No, I thought it was a dog," she said sarcastically.

"No, it is most certainly a squirrel," I advised her, feigning ignorance to her jibe. She replied by hitting me with her sketchbook.

Oh, that sketchbook…

Each day we walked a little further, soon discovering that her family did not care much how long she was gone, as long as she returned in time for supper. One sun-drenched day, I took off her with her sketchbook after she desperately tried to keep me from seeing her drawings. Gemma chased me, laughing uninhibitedly, for Shropshire is an incredibly empty place. No one was around for miles.

So we chased each other around the forest, getting more and more lost, until we stumbled out near the River Severn. A weathered boathouse stood near a dilapidated dock, where a boat was secured, half-sunk in the water. We discovered that it was long abandoned, the perfect hiding spot for a mismatched and frowned-upon pair like us.

Even in the bright sunlight, the interior was dark, so dirty were the cracked windows. We fumbled around, checking for long-lost treasures, but all we found were old fishing nets and broken wooden boxes. Somewhere in our search, cobwebs brushed against the back of her neck. Gemma screamed and danced around, and I laughed until she grew red in the face and told me to "jump off a cliff, you insolent boy".

So I did the only thing I could think to do in response. I kissed her.

And she didn't pull away.

We kissed until the sun dipped dangerously low in the sky. In her haste to make it back before her family grew suspicious, she left her sketchbook behind, but I didn't say anything, because then we'd have to go back and retrieve it some other day.

Upon returning to our parting spot, we realized that while it may have taken us awhile to make it to the boathouse, is was surprisingly close. The knowledge made my stomach turn with thrill and unease. Someone could have caught us. Needless to say, the threat wasn't enough to keep us away.

* * *

_Gemma_

I first realized that I had lost my sketchbook when Grandmama inquired about my nature drawings.

"Oh!" I exclaimed, feeling a blush work its annoying way onto my cheeks. "I must have left it in the forest. I – I dozed off, you see."

Grandmama wrinkled her nose at that. "Young ladies do not fall asleep outdoors, Gemma."

"I apologize," I said to quell her, silently making a note of returning to the boathouse tomorrow. A tingling warmth started in my lower half at the prospect of seeing Kartik again.

We returned to the boathouse the next day, though our trip was not nearly as playful as the day before. I suspect that we both just wanted to steal away behind the moldy doors and kiss until sundown again.

And we did just that. We kissed until the only thing from keeping us from taking it further was the filth on every surface in the boathouse. And we didn't dare take it outside.

On the way back, I realized that I had no pictures to show to Grandmama, and that is when I learned of Kartik's talent for drawing. In just minutes, I had a few good sketches to appease my family, and a new thing to admire about Kartik. Not only were his pictures quite good, but it was an enjoyment in itself just to watch him draw.

One afternoon I boldly asked him to draw me, so that I could just watch the way he bit his lip in concentration, and feel his eyes lingering on me. He politely obliged, churning out a few accurate sketches of my face. I thanked him for them, but secretly resolved to ask him to draw more of me some other time.

And he would.

The daylight hours that we spent together soon proved to be too short for our enjoyment. Cryptic notes were exchanged, rocks were thrown at windows, and blankets were laid on the dirty boathouse floor. In the dim light of the lantern, kissing was simply not enough.

"Kartik," I whispered against his lips. "Draw me?"

"What?" His dark eyes were clouded with passion and confusion.

I slipped the straps of my nightgown down over my shoulders, revealing just enough of my pale décolletage to get his full attention. He dutifully picked up my sketchbook and began to draw. Once he reached the lace detailing of my nightgown, he stopped and looked at me. I gave him just the slightest nod.

Kartik leaned over and kissed me, tugging on the drawstring at my neckline. Once loosened, his hand guided the cotton fabric down smoothly over my breasts, until it pooled at my lap. He took a deep breath and resumed drawing, just barely able to maintain his air of stoicism.

The pencil made soft scratching sounds on the paper. Never before have I ever heard a more erotic sound in my life. Well that, and Kartik's labored breathing as he drank in the sight of my naked torso.

After a few long minutes, or perhaps even hours, his hand slowed to a stop. We locked eyes and time began moving even slower. We kissed so deeply that I couldn't make heads or tails of my surroundings. All I knew was the heat of his bare chest against mine, and the fire that his fingertips spread over my skin.

* * *

_Kartik_

There was something about the way Gemma looked when I laid her down on the dark wool blanket that made my eyes mist over. She was so soft and beautiful that I couldn't keep my lips off of her. Our kissing grew more fevered and it wasn't long until I became the key to my Pandora's box.

I sank inside her deeper and deeper, with no wish to ever reemerge. All I wanted was to stay forever in her fluid embrace. Nothing mattered except for the incredible need, our gasps and moans, the whirlwind of unimaginable passion. When it was over, I blinked the sweat away and locked eyes with her, expecting to see the same shining satisfaction that I felt.

But all I saw was pain, not passion.

I mistook her every gasp, moan, and shudder for pleasure, when in fact I was hurting her the whole time, and didn't care enough to realize.

But she didn't look angry, or even upset. She looked happy.

She did it for me.

Who was that curious new woman gazing up at me? The one without a selfish thought. The one that didn't care enough to cease my pleasure for the sake of her pain. Surely it couldn't be my Gemma. But it was.

What had I done? I committed sacrilege.

* * *

_Gemma_

From the moment my back touched the rough wool of the blanket, I was aching to find a new part of myself. My skin no longer felt like my own, but Kartik's searching fingers changed that. He found parts of me I had lost, never known. Oh yes, this was me.

I gazed up at the cobwebbed ceiling as I was cracked open and split wide, the treasure chest he hadn't found the last time we searched. Within moments I was rubbed raw and hurting in this new skin of mine. But it was worth it to see the look on his face – eyes clamped shut, lips swollen and parted, sweat beading on his brow, just begging to be kissed away.

And it was all because of me. I was enough to send him to those heights of ecstasy.

And that felt good.

He shuddered a final time and I fell off the edge – born and baptized anew, anointed with the strength of his prayer.

We didn't move for while – just looked at each other, searching for answers to questions we couldn't ask. I'll never forget his eyes at that moment, filled with guilt and remorse. I didn't understand it at the time, but it hurt more than the act itself. I didn't want him to look like that, but I couldn't ask him what was wrong.

I brushed the hair out of his eyes and kissed his forehead softly. He rested his head under my chin, and we stayed like that for much of the night.

* * *

_Kartik_

For most of July, we didn't see each other. There was nothing left to say anymore. Somewhere in the string of days spent in the dank boathouse, we lost each other, lost ourselves. There was no more light banter, no more silly arguments. We loved each other and we knew it, but it was too serious for either of us to handle.

Days were spent grieving over the Gemma I thought I had killed, in a matter of speaking. I missed her sarcasm and wit, her genuine laugh, her shyness around me. I knew that my old Gemma must be in there somewhere, hidden under the sultry glances and willingness to take her clothes off.

I wanted to find her, but I was afraid to look.

It was my fault that she changed. I don't know how, but I know it was.

Gemma had foolishly left her sketchbook behind. Normally it wouldn't matter, but there were drawings in there that couldn't be seen by others. I wondered if she had realized what it might have meant for her if a stranger found the sketchbook. But I knew she didn't have to worry, for I had it, and I kept it safe.

I gazed at the picture I had most recently drawn often, trying to recall the exact way the lantern light hit her curves, how her curls fell around her shoulders, and how beautiful she looked lying on that blanket in her last moments of purity.

Was that it? Had I ruined her? Would I ever get the chance to make it right? To give to her like she gave to me – selflessly and lovingly?

I mourned over those questions for many days, until I finally got my answer.

There was a note under a rock near the mouth of the forest, where she would always leave her messages for me.

_I've misplaced my sketchbook. Help me find it?_

I closed the note tight in my fist and waited for her near the old dock where the boathouse stood.

* * *

_Gemma_

From the first day after it happened, the ache between my legs made me incredibly aware of my own flesh. I was constantly analyzing my every movement and expression. Was I limping? Could anyone tell that my heart was breaking? If someone so much as looked at me the wrong way, I grew hot in the face and nervous. All I could think of was every invisible mark Kartik had left on me – his teeth on my neck, his lips on my stomach, his tongue in my mouth. They were all such strong brands that I could swear every eye upon me could see them.

For a few weeks, I couldn't go to see Kartik out of pure paranoia. What once was normal suspicion from Grandmama (Where are you going? When will you be back?) grew to such proportions that I was afraid to rouse any at all. Every time she'd size me up I'd brace myself for the accusations.

But soon enough, I grew restless of being my own prisoner. I had to see Kartik again.

My breath caught in my throat when I saw him, sitting against a tree. He looked so familiar to me, like a long-lost friend, even though I had been seeing him all summer. The Kartik I loved became swept away in the urgency to touch and be touched. But then again, I had been lost as well.

"Hello," I said quietly, sitting next to him. His brown eyes were soft as he looked at me.

He sighed, his breath just rousing the loose strands of my hair. I began to fear that all hope was lost between us.

But then he surprised me.

"That's a bird," he said, pointing to a starling illuminated against the stormy sky.

"Really? I thought it was a squirrel."

He grinned, and my heart filled to bursting. "Squirrels don't have wings, Gemma."

I laughed and took hold of his hand. His smile faded.

"What is it?" I asked worriedly. I did not let go of his hand.

"Gemma, I…I took something from you that I shouldn't have taken."

"Oh," I said softly.

He looked at me mournfully. "I don't know what to say to you."

"You don't need to say anything. I gave it to you."

He was surprised. "What?"

I smiled, but it felt wrong considering the pain in his eyes. "I gave myself to you. I do not regret that you took me."

"I didn't deserve it."

"Why would you say that?"

He bit his lip and gazed at the boathouse. "You were hurting and I didn't notice," he whispered.

"I heard that it always hurts the first time," I explained. He didn't look convinced. I turned his face to mine gently. "I'd rather it be you than anyone else," I murmured.

The sky chose that inconvenient moment to send forth the first raindrops of the impending storm.

"Do you mean that?" His eyes darted to my lips and then back to my eyes.

"I do," I said. We kissed as the rain fell in fat, steady drops around us.

"It's raining," he said breathlessly, breaking our kiss to speak.

"I can see that," I replied. He kissed me fiercely and we both scrambled to our feet as the drops fell harder. We ran as fast as we could to the boathouse, laughing and shrieking the wetter we became.

Once inside, we collapsed on the wool blanket and pulled each other close. "Gemma," he whispered into my ear. "Let me make it up to you."

"Make what up to me?" Outside, lightning flashed in the distance, followed closely by a low rumble of thunder that seemed to come from deep within the earth.

Kartik wrapped his arms tightly around me. "I want you to feel what I felt. Let me have another chance."

I shivered as drops of water from his hair dripped onto me. I kissed him slowly. "What better way is there to keep warm?"

He laughed softly. "Gemma," he said, turning me to face him. "I love you."

My breath caught in my throat. "I love you too," I whispered.

We peeled our wet clothing off and suspended them from an old rope to drip-dry as we made love on the floor of the boathouse. This time, Kartik was much more attentive to me, though it did not go as smoothly as I'd have hoped.

His hands and mouth had been working my body into a furnace of the most pleasure I had ever felt, when a strange sensation on my shoulder caused my eyes to pop open in panic.

I jerked violently, throwing Kartik off my lower half, and jumped up, smacking at my shoulder in a frenzy.

"What is it?" Kartik asked, clearly alarmed.

"Spider!" I cried, feeling itchy all over. I stopped and checked to make sure the offending little demon was thoroughly squished. Kartik stared at me, then burst out laughing. He grabbed me around my legs and pulled me back down, and from that moment on, everything was perfect.

**I have no idea what the point of this was, but I liked it. I hope it seemed realistic enough. Everyone seems to think that their first time would be this beautiful, perfect thing for both of them, but that is highly unlikely. Ah well. Their second time made up for it!**

**Please tell me what you think!**

**Much love,  
Gemma Doyle - err, I mean LunaEquus**

**PLEASE REVIEW! **


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